


Sugar

by overcastskeleton



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Mentions of Death, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-18 03:34:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21921121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/overcastskeleton/pseuds/overcastskeleton
Summary: Everybody has bad days, even Captain America
Relationships: Sam Wilson (Marvel)/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 32





	Sugar

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe I get to live in a time where we get the honor of calling Sam Wilson Captain America

_ I'm hurtin baby, I'm broken down _

_ I need your lovin, loving,  _

_ I need it now... _

* * *

Everyone has bad days, even Captain America. 

You can tell it’s been a tough one the moment Sam shoulders his way into your small apartment. It’s in the way he slams the front door and how he drops the vibranium shield onto the floor. 

“Sam?” You poke your head into the hallway. 

Sam’s standing at the end of the hallway, back facing you. He doesn’t respond, even when you call his name again.

“Baby,” you mumble, running a hand up his arm. 

His shoulders are stiff, slouched forward, head bowed as he stares at the shield. 

You walk around when stony silence greets you, and look up into his hard brown eyes. “What’s wrong?” You ask, searching his cold gaze. 

He clenches his jaw, and turns his head to the side. “Nothing.” 

It’s a lie, and a very bad one at that. 

Your arms snake around his waist. “ Bullshit,” you say gently, pressing light kisses to his shoulder. 

Sam sighs, leaning into your embrace. “Bad day.” He wraps his arms around you, and holds you tightly against his chest. 

_ Bad day _ is an understatement from the looks of it. There are bruises adorning his face, and a particularly nasty cut near his eye. You touch the white medical tape and he flinches, sucking in a sudden breath. If he was this banged up, you would hate to see the other guy. 

“Wanna talk about it?”

Sam shakes his head. “Not right now.”

“Okay.” You take his hand and pull him forward. 

Sam’s a processor, always has been, it’s just a part of his nature. Pushing him to talk right now would just frustrate the both of you. You know he’d open up about it eventually, he just needed a little time to think. It was the least you could give him. 

He follows you into the kitchen, head still bowed. You push him down into a chair, and walk over to the fridge. 

“Beer?” You ask, leaning forward to look through the contents. You’d need to go shopping, but that was a problem for another time. 

“Got anything stronger?” 

You look back at him with a half smile. “All do respect, Cap, I don’t think giving you something stronger would be a good idea right now.” 

“Then beer it is,” he says, kicking his combat boots off with a sigh. 

You pop the top off and bring it to him, standing between his legs. 

Sam takes a few sips, and swallows with a groan. “Thanks, baby.” His free hand rests on the back of your thigh, seeking the comfort of your warm skin. 

You rub at his shoulders, and he leans back against the chair, eyes fluttering shut as he sips at the beer slowly. Silence fills the room, but it’s not heavy or uncomfortable. You don’t need words to convey solace, the feeling of each other’s presence is enough. The tension slowly seeps out of Sam’s body, and at the end of what very well could have been ten minutes or hours, he grabs your hand and presses a kiss to your palm.

You want to ask him what happened. But the haunted look he gives you stop you in your tracks. There are tears in his eyes. It startles you. It’s not like you’ve never seen him cry. But this, this is sudden, angry. You knew something was bothering him, you didn’t know it was this bad. 

“Sammy,” you whisper. Usually the nickname makes him scowl, but today it’s the breaking point. 

He sets the beer bottle down suddenly, and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you to him with a force that makes you almost fall over. His hands grip the worn material of the Air Force shirt you’re wearing, like it’s the anchor in a rolling storm. Sam buries his face into your stomach, and angry tears, hot like the molten frustration inside him, turn the grey material a shade darker. 

“I lost them,” Sam mutters, and his voice has a bitter edge. 

“Lost who?” You rub the back of his head. 

“There was a trafficking ring, growing here in DC, right under our fucking noses, and we didn’t even know. Buck and I went in to break it up. Quick work for Captain America and the Winter Soldier, right? Well they were on to us, knew we were coming from the get-go.” He took a deep, shuddering breath and continued. 

“They were waiting for us as soon as we bust down the doors, barricaded themselves in a back room with ten hostages. We tried to talk ‘em down, but they got antsy. I told our supes that we needed to move in now, they told us to wait for backup. I didn’t think we had the time, so I made a different call.

“We got a low level goon, but the others...we were too late” Sam leaned back in his seat, and rubbed his face with both hands. “They killed them all. Left them in that dirty room for us to find...The youngest was a little girl, she was only ten.”

You tilt his head up to meet his gaze, and his eyes find yours reluctantly. “It’s not your fault,” you say softly, wiping away his tears with your thumb. 

“Like hell it isn’t.” He scoffs, and pushes your hands away, punishing himself by denying himself the feeling of your touch . 

You don’t let him. “You did everything you could, Sam,” you insist, sitting on the table in front of him. 

Sam crosses his arms over his chest and huffs. “Those bastards got away, because of me. I should have gone in there, guns blazing.” 

“And put hostages in the crossfire?” You raise an eyebrow. “Endangered their lives even more? I know you were thinking about that when you tried talking first. It would have turned into a bloodbath, they probably would have killed them all anyways.” 

“How do you know some of them wouldn’t have made it?” Sam challenged, defiantly. 

You shrug. “I don’t and neither do you,” you counter. 

His hands curl into fists at this sides. “Steve wouldn’t—“

“You are  _ not _ Steve Rogers.” You unball his fingers, and hold them in yours. “You are Samuel Thomas Wilson, not a mind reader, not a psychic. You’re a human being, who makes mistakes, and you made the call you thought was right in the moment. Could you have done something different? Yes. But, if you sit around here thinking about what you could have changed in the past, you’ll never start thinking about what you can do in the future. Those men are still out there, and they’re putting countless lives at risk. You’re job is to go after them, and make sure they don’t kill anymore little girls. You can’t do that if you’re stuck in the past, making excuses and scenarios.” 

He stares at you for a moment, jaw still clenched, and eyes ablaze, but you can see that he’s mulling over what you just said. You stare back at him, watching the changes in his body language as what you said finally resonates with him. 

Sam relaxes with a huff and a shake of his head.  _ You’re right _ . His softened eyes speak the words he doesn’t really have the strength to admit out loud. 

You’d give him a hard time for it in any other scenario, but you let it go. You give him a soft smile, and kiss his bruised knuckles. 

“Sometimes, I wonder why the hell Steve even gave me the shield.” He admits, barely above a whisper. 

“Because you deserve it,” you say sternly, your tone leaving no room for arguments. “He wouldn’t have given it to you, if he wasn’t one hundred percent sure you had earned it. You’re the best man for the job, Sam, and I know he didn’t doubt that for a second when he chose you.” 

Sam stands, resting his hands on your thighs. “I love you,” he mumbles, leaning his forehead against yours. “Don’t know how I got lucky enough to have you. Who else would give me a kick in the ass when I needed it?” 

“Bucky.” You grin, and he pinches your side, making you squirm away from him. 

“True,” he shrugs. “I like it more when you do it though.” He smirks, thumbs rubbing your hips 

You nudge your nose against his. “I love you too, dummy.” 

He closes the gap between the two of you, and presses his lips to your own. It’s not hurried, but still passionate in every sense of the word. It steals the breath from your lungs, and makes your toes curl. You moan, leaning into Sam’s body when his tongue sweeps along your bottom lip, and his hands dip under the hem of your shirt. 

“Sam,” you gasp, when he finally lets you up for air.

His lips trail along your jaw, and towards your ear. “Yes?” You can feel his smile against your skin. 

“You should get out of this uniform.” You pull on the leather straps. 

“See, that’s exactly what I was thinking.” Sam mutters, moving to kiss you again, but you pull away. 

“And take need a shower.” You push him away, nose wrinkling up playfully. “You kinda smell.” 

Sam’s smile drops and he pulls away with an offended look on his face. “ _ I do not _ .” 

“Do to.” You laugh, pressing a kiss to his lips to make amends. 

He tilts your chin up to deepen the kiss and you play along for a moment only to tease him. 

“Baby,” Sam whines when you pull away, a wicked smile on your lips. “C’mon, I’m hurting here.” He holds your hand over his heart. “I need some lovin.” He gestures to his bruised face. 

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Shower first.” You push his shoulders, and Sam groans. 

“Fine.” He squeezes your thighs and pulls away from you. “But only if you come with me.” 

“I took a shower earlier, I don’t need--  _ Sam _ !” You shout as he throws you over his shoulder. “Put me down!” You smack his back. 

Sam keeps walking towards the bathroom, as if he can’t hear your protests. “You told me to take a shower, I’m going to take a shower.” He kicks your bedroom door open. 

“Yeah, but I didn’t say to take me in the shower.” You wriggle in his arms. 

He sets you on the counter and closes the door. “I wish you had.” He wiggles his eyebrows. 

“ _ Christ _ , you’re insatiable. We had sex last night.” You shake your head, but there’s a smirk on your face. 

“But that was a whole day ago.” He starts undoing the clips and zippers on his suit. “Besides, you love post-mission sex.” 

You just shrug. You can’t argue with him there. Instead, you reach out and help him undress. Soon he’s standing in front of you in just boxers, and a smirk. 

“Not too late to change your mind.” Sam teases, grinning like the fucking Cheshire cat. 

You shake your head, but your resolve is weakening. “Shower.” You move past him to turn on the faucet.

Sam presses his broad chest against your back. “Thought I’d offer,” he whispers and squeezes your ass. 

You bite your lip to hold in a moan. “Go.” You hop back onto the counter and tap your finger against your wrist. “Tik tok.” 

He smiles so wide, his eyes crinkle. 

* * *

It was the quickest shower of Sam’s life, he was sure of it. He’s in and out in less than ten minutes. How could he possibly take longer when he knows you’re sitting out there waiting for him? The thought has him rock hard instantly, and he doubles his efforts to rinse all the soap off of his body. 

Sam’s hand sticks around the shower curtain, fumbling for a towel. You toss him one, and he catches it deftly, toweling off quickly and wrapping it around his waist. 

You’re sitting on the counter, right where he left you, except you’ve taken off his old Air Force shirt and are wearing nothing but a bra and panties. 

He smiles when he sees the pattern of little red, white and blue shields that cover them. 

“You better not have been wearing these when Steve was Cap.” Sam tugs on the waistband. 

You give him a coy little smile. “C’mon babe, you know you’re my Captain America.” You wrap your arms around his shoulders. 

“That’s not an answer.” He fits himself between your thighs. 

“If I said yes, would it make you jealous?” You run your tongue over your bottom lip. 

Sam rolls his eyes. “‘Course not. As long as I’m the only Cap that’s been between your legs.” He raises an eyebrow. 

“And you’ll be the only one.” You affirm, tugging on the towel around his waist. 

He pulls you flush against his body and picks you up. “Good,” he kisses you as he makes his way into the bedroom. 

You laugh when he drops you on the bed, and the noise goes straight to Sam’s cock, along with all the blood and every rational thought in his brain. You toe at the rolled waistband of the towel, impatience evident in the scowl on your face, because he’s  _ still _ wearing it. 

Sam catches your foot and places a kiss on your calf, relishing the little shiver that goes down your spine. He drops the towel with his free hand and crawls onto the bed, trailing kisses up your leg as he goes. 

You shudder when he reaches the junction where your thighs meet, and he presses a soft kiss to your clothed clit in response. 

“Sam,” you mumbled, digging your heel into his back. “Quit teasing.” 

He grins up at you, licks his thumb, and presses it to growing wet patch on your panties. “Just watching my girl. She looks so damn good when she’s all needy for me.” 

Whatever smart remark you were gonna make is lost when Sam sucks on your clit through the fabric. You moan breathily, lifting your hips into his lips. “Sammy.”

Sam chuckles, and pulls your underwear down. “Tsk, tsk, so impatient.” He grins up at you, making sure to make eye contact with you before sucking your clit between his lips. 

“ _ Oh _ .” You moan, tangling your hand in the blankets. You stare up at the ceiling, mind going blank, and unable to focus on anything but the man between your thighs. 

And Sam wouldn’t have it any other way. 

His fingers tease your entrance, dipping in and out shallowly, and he listens to the high pitched whimpers that accompany his movements. “What do you want?” He asks, lips still moving against you. 

The vibration makes your hips buck forward, and your thighs close around his head momentarily. 

“Nuh uh.” Sam slings he free hand around your hips, holding you in place. “Use your words, babygirl.” 

“Fingers,” you pant, unable to string together a simple sentence. 

“What about them?” He slides a finger inside you, and pull it out just as quickly. 

You whine, hitting the bed in frustration. “Use them, Sam.” 

“No magic word?”

“ _ Samuel Tho _ — _ Ah _ . Shit, yes.” Your back arches off the mattress as he fills you with two thick fingers. 

Sam continues his assault on your clit, pulling away for a moment to cheekily mumble “All you had to do was ask, sweetheart.” He doubles down, lips pulling and teeth nipping your clit, egged on by the ever increasing volume of your cries. You clench around his fingers when they brush your g-spot, and his cock twitches, aching to be inside you. He’s so hard now, he knows he’s gotta be leaking precum onto the sheets. Sam grinds into the mattress to take the edge off, counting every plea and moan until you fall apart. 

You come with a hoarse cry of his name, coating his lips and chin with your juices. Sam laps it up, eagerly, savoring the taste of you on his tongue. His tongue continues swiping over your sensitive clit until you come back to earth, pushing him away with a shuddery gasp. 

He pillows his head on your thigh, looking up at your hooded lids and heaving chest. You give him a blissed out grin, and he swears he falls in love with you all over again. 

“Get up here, cap.” You say, voice sultry and slurring from the effects of your orgasm. 

Sam obeys, propping himself up on his elbows. 

You wrap your arms around his neck, and pull him down for a kiss. 

He’s always amazed at how eager you are to taste yourself on his tongue. It’s something filthy, yet intimate, like he’s sharing a secret with you that only he knows. You both moan as your tongue licks at his bottom lip, opening him up to the both of you. 

Sam takes the advantage to roll onto his back, and pull you on top of him. He’ll never get tired of watching you from this angle. The way you roll your hips against his, and how your breasts sway hypnotically with every one of your movements. He takes them in his hand, and plays with your nipples, watches the way you lean into his touch subtly. 

You take his length, and thrust against it, causing him to moan as your hot cunt rubs against his aching cock. The head catches on your clit, and you fall forward, fingers digging into his chest to hold steady. “Jesus,” you mumble, sitting up to hover over his length. 

You want to get him back for teasing you, but you’re just so desperate for him to be inside you, that teasing him will be like punishing yourself. So, you sink down onto him slowly, letting him fill you completely. 

Sam grips your hips, head pushed back into the pillow. You lean forward, and press a kiss to the spot on his throat that turns him into a puddle and he curses, hips lifting into yours for just a moment. You rock forward slowly, taking your time to really feel every ridge and vein of his cock inside you. 

He watches your face, eyes closed and lips slightly parted, and your expression makes him twitch. His grip on your hips tighten, and he moves you a little faster. Your head tilts back, baring the curve of your throat to him. He sits up, hands sliding down to grab your ass, and kisses your neck. 

A moan works its way out of your throat and into the quiet serenity of the room. More soon follow as Sam’s lips travel down your collarbone to your breasts. He massages one with a calloused hand, the other receives the loving attention of his lips and tongue. He tastes the faint traces of soap on your damp skin, smells the lavender perfume you use. All hints of you, his girl, the woman he loves more than anything in the world. 

You clench around him, and your soft whimpers fill his ear. Sam groans into the side of your breast, hands splayed across your back to hold you to him. 

“You gonna come for me, babygirl?” He asks, breath hot against your nipple. 

You nod, fingers gripping his shoulders for dear life. 

“C’mon then.” Sam rubs his thumb against your clit, lips still attached to your nipple. 

You back bows, and you cry out as your orgasm washes over you. 

Sam buries his face into your chest, hips stuttering into yours as he releases with a groan. Your hips move against his slowly, milking every last drop. 

“Shit.” Sam chuckles, and lays back, pulling you down on top of him. 

You grin, propping your chin up on his chest. 

He looks down at you, a soft, dopey smile on his face. “Thank you,” he whispers. 

“I should be thanking you.” You kiss him softly. 

Sam shakes his head. “No I meant…” He pauses for a moment, weighing his words. “Thank you, for talking me down earlier.”

You run your fingers over his stubble. “I just told you what you already knew.” 

He runs his thumb over your bottom lip. “Don’t know what I’d do without you.” 

“Something stupid, probably.” Comes your cheeky reply. 

He rolls his eyes, but he knows you’re right. “Yeah, something stupid.”

You rest your head against his chest, and Sam’s eyes flutter shut, the post coital haze overcoming him. 

“Baby,” you whisper, running a finger over his stomach. 

“Hm?” He replies, groggily. 

“You’re gonna catch those bastards. Wanna know how I know?” 

“How?”

“Cuz you’re Captain fucking America.” 

Sam kisses your forehead. “Yeah, I am.” 

“Don’t you ever forget it.” 

How could he, when he always had you by his side to remind him? 

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos/Comments are greatly appreciated!


End file.
